


With his shoes at the edge and the sand beneath his feet, there's no line between reality and dreams.

by HoldOnImConfused



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Complications of the mind, Contemplation, Dreams, Jeffrey Grimes (mentioned), M/M, Merle Dixon (mentioned) - Freeform, don't even know what tags suit this work, vague tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23054020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoldOnImConfused/pseuds/HoldOnImConfused
Summary: It comes to him often enough to bask itself in the mask of a distant remembrance, so utterly soothing, connecting and all so real it pleasantly devours him. All the while its moments are too few, disconnecting him from this world in his dreams and he’s unable to proclaim that it’s in fact, a world built from his memories.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	With his shoes at the edge and the sand beneath his feet, there's no line between reality and dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Written on and around a pot of coffee while I started a new pot and had two mugs of that, so however this turned out #noregrets

There’s this place in the shielded safety of his nights. It’s faded with the everlasting shades of green from a forest and a mirror of depth spreading its reflecting surface in a uneven circle, the sounds are vague but that of life, be it the soft caress of the wind or the rustle of foliage. It comes to him often enough to bask itself in the mask of a distant remembrance, so utterly soothing, connecting and all so real it pleasantly devours him. All the while its moments are too few, disconnecting him from this world in his dreams and he’s unable to proclaim that it’s in fact, a world built from his memories. But it consumes him in the night when it seeks him out, he slumbers deeper, his unaware and resting mind devotes itself to this place in his subconscious as he strides the small patch of sand beneath his feet, can feel every grain that inserts itself between his toes, he never recollects taking off his shoes, one moment he has them on as he approaches the water and the next, they’re sat on the grassy edge before the sand, and, always in that one moment where he walks the small shore, in a way that’s surreal, he knows he’s sleeping and it’s all a dream. His dreaming wakefulness is as clear as the mirror his eyes watches on his path, especially when the wind clutches it in a loose grasp and ruffles a blur over the perfect surface before it releases it to still again. It feels like his chest, he always gathers, like the wind and the water entwines itself with him, as if the rustle of the water, the breezy distortion, displays an illustration of what he’s feeling in this dream of his. A calm sense of playful contentment and warmth, because he’s not alone, in this dream he never is.

There’s a miscalculation somewhere in this world of his, it took him some time to notice it, his dreams were elusive in a wakened state at first, but as he journeyed through it more and more times, he could start seeing it. These shoes of his that sit waiting on the edge before the sand reaches to connect with the water, the dark brown boot type that had been fairly new when he started having this dream, had gotten worn with time, every dream of his adjusted to the everyday use of his shoes and with no doubt because of this, he knows they’re his normal ones. The error in his dream though, aside from a pair of boots that seem to remain true to the real world as their shape catches every new rasp or scrape, perhaps acting as a link to separate this illusion from reality, is that they’re too big for him in his dream. He can’t clearly see himself, his limbs are clear, he knows that and yet he can’t grasp the correct proportions. He’s mused though, that he must be smaller in this slumber, younger, and that’s why the shoes don’t fit, he’s almost sure of this thought, at least it’s one of the reasons.

The other reason is the presence that walks the sand with him, just like the boots, the figure appears before Rick can catch it, out of nothing it’s just there alongside him. The frame is small and humanly warm, humanly beautiful to him, blessing its presence with a drape of life rather than the image of a dream and Rick knows he’s not any taller than this figure by the way they align together and thus, he reaches the conclusion of youth. It makes him, for a moment with every appearance of his dream, believe that it is in fact, a world built from a memory he can’t reach, that he must somehow know of this place. But he can’t for the life of him ever remember being there after he wakes up and as his life goes on, the remains of this dream fades in the span of time until the next one, leaving him in disbelief of this thought, riddles his mind with doubts of that possibility, again and again.

But even as he’s awake, even if the dream fades and confusion replaces contentment, whether he believes in the reality of the dream of the illusion of it, he remembers the presence regardless. It’s the one thing that never fades. Rick knows they get along, that this is something of theirs, can feel the faint traces of conversation passing along but he can never make out what they speak of, but he knows they do, he knows he enjoys their conversations and how real it makes their combination. It’s not all good, there’s despair too, not between them but what is shared from their own points of view in their combined company and Rick wishes he could hear them, that he could remember their conversations as he wakes up, be it the warmth or the cold, he wishes for it dearly, as much as he knows he yearns to remain unaware in fear of what it would make him feel when he sits in his bed and it’s all over again.

This figure pulls Rick like gravity, or Rick does to the figure, it’s hard to tell in such a vividly clear and yet, all too obscure version of a world built in his mind. But he feels safe there, they’re close, there’s nothing he could be more sure of, real or not real, Rick doesn’t feel any different about that, even if the figure is a fabricated comfort he made, because he’s seen it, shades of beautiful blue in captivating eyes, a harshness there that he remembers softening, how it transformed into a growing trust, how it felt like it was earned and how he, in this dream, vowed to honor and care for that, it was his, as he offered his own to this beloved friend his dream had made.

He loves this dream as much as he dreads it, loves how he’s filled with calm, how it nourishes his fibers after a long day at work when it does come to him, how the colors remain behind his closed lids until he’s snoozed past the drowse and has to feel inevitable sense of loss, a faint notion of grief that he’s once more disconnected from this warm world inside his mind and the aftermath of confusion because there’s never an answer to the question of real or false. He lost count on how many times he’s mulled over the question, how many times he’s searched his head for just a slimmer of evidence that he has a real memory of this place inside his dream, when everything is so real and yet, always too far for reach.

Time is cruel as it moves ahead of him with no more answers than before, as surreal and real as they used to be, Rick remains a partaker of his minds creation. They keep coming, perhaps fewer than they used to but instead they’re stronger, more clear, closer to heart it almost hurts how real they feel. He startles awake one morning, quite sure that he’s counting close to nine months since the last time he had the dream and that’s a lot longer than usual. He feels his breathing is unsettled, not hectic, not rash or panicked, just unsettled. All the while he holds on dearly to the sweetness of his dream that will leave him given time, the unspoken talks and the soothing presence. He recalls sandy blonde and a mess of red added to this color chart of his dream, those were new, as well as never seeing it in his dream, yet he can still feel the linger of water this time, the soft smell of nature bouncing from a disturbed surface, how cool it had felt around his body under the beating sun, fabric sticking to his body and how they were happy, there’d been joy despite something that hadn’t possessed it before, the something that seemed to lead up to the starting point of his dream, before that trust had grown in those blues. It coils his stomach, because the dream still reverberates something wonderful inside him, feeling like he had inside that world and yet, he knows why his breathing is unsettled, why it’s coiling unpleasantly, why despite the remaining daze of the dream trickling through his nerves, he is uncomfortable. He can’t take it anymore, this reoccurring borderline wave of emotions he’s forced to relive with nothing but question left in its ashes.

He takes a cold shower, not in a sense to cleanse himself from the water in his dream, but to wake up raptly rather than soothingly, he can’t afford stumbling through the dark, although that’s exactly what he’ll be doing regardless and he knows that, but he likes to pretend. There’s a whisper inside his mind that he can’t make out, the shower helped a little, but he’s still going insane on his weekend off with the walls of his apartment imaginarily closing in on him. He needs to get out and think, stretch his mind as much as he needs to stay and deal with himself and every shade of green, blue and sand flickering with every blink. He makes coffee, curses at the brewer when it sputters and he has to slap it twice before it gets going, the old fashioned kind of fix but it works, for now but not forever, and he vows to get his ass out to finally buy a new one because yeah, enough was enough. His mind still whispers, he still sees the colors, he remembers the warmth, feels it inside his core and slumps down on his couch after getting through his first mug of coffee a bit too fast than needed. His head hits the back of the couch and he tells himself to not think, just for a moment, he doesn’t want to think, just needing some empty before he could try and get a grip of himself. How could feel so connected to the point of longing so dearly, like he’d lost something he never even had to begin with? Was it even healthy? Fuck if he knew. Closing his eyes he sunk down into the cushions, releasing a relaxing breath as the softness supported his weight, emptying his head, clearing, mind breathing.

_Promise._

The word echoes, carries, makes him open his eyes slowly. He doesn’t resume his mind as he gets up, just grabs his keys and wallet and sets himself behind the wheel of his car, turning the engine on. It’s a strange feeling that overtakes him as he starts driving, the one where he doesn’t know where he’s going but for some reason, he has a feeling he knows exactly where he’s supposed to drive. The roads he chooses are supposedly random, a right turn here, going straight, another right or left, all just picked because he feels like going there when he closes in on the turn. He knows the areas but he’s not familiar with inner roads or most of what they bring. Going out for a drive on a weekend isn’t so bad either, he has to admit to himself, it’s an approved event of entertainment after all and so, he continues, enjoying the nature, scouting the sights to be seen although he never stop to experience them fully.

He doesn’t question his disinterest in making those stops, there’s no room for that until he thinks he should have, it happens when he passes an old wooden bridge carrying the path over a lively little stream and he realizes he’s gone quite far into the woods on older roads, his breath seems to hold itself when he swears he can recall a few of the distinct traits that appear on the side of the road like the tilted metal raining on the sharp curve lacking a piece in the middle. He doesn’t remember them, but they’re familiar, this place is, and once he comes across the dead end of the road, he called the campsite before he even saw it and the supposedly random decisions of roads, didn’t feel as much random as they did. It definitely doesn’t look to be the most popular place for people wanting an outdoor experience, but it’s not deserted, he concludes as he finally pulled to a stop and got out of the car. There are wheel tracks in the dirt mixed grass about a few weeks old, and there’s a wind shelter along with a fire pit that is far from broken down although quite worn.

It doesn’t keep him for long and although he’s an officer telling people to not wander off into the woods every time they’ve had to locate tourists or children getting lost, it’s exactly what he’s doing himself when he feels this growing surety that he’s just close. He walks a path that’s barely a path anymore, overgrown as it reaches too far from the camp and normally the visitors staying there probably wouldn’t venture that far away, but Rick does and he fucking knows exactly which path to take once one strays from the other. It’s all so surreal, pushing on like he was growing desperate and fuck, perhaps he was, urging through the foliage of thickly growing bushes until he doesn’t anymore.

It expands before him as fast as his heart restricts at the sight of it, the field of grass with an edge lacking his boots, the sand stretching beneath it down to the water. He sees the blur as the winds gently caresses the surface before everything stills again, he’s not sure what he’s feeling, but it’s definitely something and he probably won’t ever be able to fathom a definition for it. There’s the cabin further up toward the edge of the woods, he knows this cabin, curses at himself because he remembers it being there in his dreams but he never actually _remembered_ it, but he’s sure it was always there in his minds creation of this place. It’s maintained, or it looks to be at least somewhat, the windows are shaded with dust. He ventures forth once he manages, reaches that edge sits down to take his boots off, feeling he need to put them on the exact spot where his dream always held them and he removes his socks before setting them down in the sand. It’s like coming home when he stands up and the sand sink in between his toes, he’s in his dream, but it’s real this time, he basks in it, closes his eyes and breathes as he merges with everything he remembers feeling while sleeping in that world, complete, whole, smiling at the sun shining down on his face.

“I’mma shoot ye right ‘ere ‘f ye don’ bum ye ass away ‘n beyond.” The voice startled his eyes open, husky and rasp, harsh and a bit cold meaning business, adding the additional worry of his own at the words chosen he may have jumped a little, yet it wasn’t a gun he was faced with as much as it was the tip of a bolt when he turned around slowly. Behind the iron sight the steel cutting blue stared at him, locks of brown falling over the face but Rick didn’t doubt that didn’t make any difference at all. Muscle built but not bulky, the man was tense as if he was faced with a threat. He thought of short blonde, feeling his breath falter when it surely didn’t match with who he had in front of him, but it didn’t seem to matter, he thought he would have felt disappointed considering the chances of meeting anyone in a place like this being as slim as they were and that what he knew didn’t match what he saw, but there was nothing like that.

“I don’t know you.. but I think I do.” He couldn’t tell why, this wasn’t similar at all to his dream or the figure he spent it with, yet he thought of trust and how it had appeared in his sleeping state, how he’d felt the lack of it before it had come to life in those eyes. Here in the real world right before his eyes, he saw what they probably would have looked like in his dream if he’d gotten to see that stage of it, suspicious and skeptical without any reason given, aside from being just another human around. Time stood still as he was visually inspected, he watched as the man struggled with his own thoughts, how his eyelids would move just slightly going through his head until the bolt was lowered. It didn’t look like the stranger could completely believe it, but the weapon slid to the side, hanging tip down toward the ground and Rick thought he saw a fraction of recollection in the face before him.

It was probably a stupid move, but he was doing it anyway, stepping forward, closing their distance and giving himself the chance to properly assess the features. He didn’t have much to compare it to, aside from the color of his eyes, the hair color didn’t match, the advanced growth of age made a huge difference, scruffy beard, but then there was something that caught his attention. Rick’s hand was placed at the strangers face without him having time to stop himself, the man had flinched at first but almost as if he caught himself doing it, and feeling shame for reacting like that, he allowed the feather light touch, the thumb brushing close to the side of his nose.

“I remember you now.” Rick knew why the red had been in his dream now, carefully tracing the slight crookedness of this man’s nose. He didn’t look like he wanted to, yet his eyes fluttered to a half shut at the touch, his head tilting forward slightly, either trying to hide or embrace the light touch.

“Daryl.” Rick couldn’t believe he had forgotten about it and now everything seemed to come back rushing faster than he had time to process. He watched the vague twitch at the corner of the man’s lips at the name. Rick had been so young when they’d gone camping during one of his vacations, him, his parents and his brother. The campsite had been fresher back then, had a few buildings that was gone now, no wonder he didn’t completely recognize the place, his father had been telling them ghost stories while his mother had minded her language as she was politely advising him not to. They’d enjoyed it all as much anyway, eating grilled sausages and laughing, the ghost stories hadn’t been very scary after all.

The day after, Rick had gotten into a minor spat with his brother and defiantly strode off into the woods while Jeffrey probably sulked back at the camp and thus, he’d ended up at the lake, eyes falling upon a close to his age boy, and the horror of blue and red as the boy had whipped his face around, eyeing him cautiously with his hand gripping tighter around the knife he was holding. It hadn’t been easy, shit even that young Rick could recall how his spine had trembled at the thought of being killed by some crazy wood creature from some forgotten lore and his mouth had just started going, rambling until he wasn’t even sure why he was, that’s when he’d asked if the boy needed any help with that, _that_ being the broken nose and bruising forming, he’d felt stupid he hadn’t tried to offer it to begin with, noticing the boy clearly had problems moving about on his own and how the knife he was holding had been used to cut fabric from his meager clothing.

“Idiot.” Daryl had muttered with a twist of fondness that Rick dared presume was reserved for him. He’d been called the same back then after all, for wanting to help him, had told he had a dumbstruck face as it happened and a pussy for the moment he’d freaked out about the injuries after the initial rambling to save his life only to realize the boy was just trying to protect his own skin. Now it made Rick smile, _jus’ a lil’ blood_ , Daryl had said back then, trying to shrug it off, trying to suppress the wince as it obviously was more than a little blood. Rick wasn’t sure what he had been supposed to think of it, someone of his age spitting the word pussy like it was okay when his own mother would have given him a never ending scolding for doing so, or the brush off of his injuries. He only knew a stubborn side of himself had kicked in when the boy had withdrawn the first time he’d tried to approach, told him he’d be the stupid one if he didn’t let Rick help him. Well, it took some more convincing but eventually Rick was allowed to, not that he had any clue on how to fix a broken nose or anything like that, but he could help with the blood that was still dripping and unfortunately for Jeffrey, it was his handkerchief that Rick used to stop the blood coming from the nose.

It wasn’t many days, his vacation was just a week long and they’d already been at the campsite for two when he’d happened upon Daryl of the woods, but the rest of those days he’d spent sneaking off to the lake. Once Rick had been granted to step inside those walls, the trust that had been placed with him had evolved into an undying one and they’d spent hours talking, gone through the woods, Rick had popped off his shoes at the edge of the grass and they’d walked in the sand, had swam in the lake and as weird as it was for Rick to believe, he’d been proclaimed as the one and only friend Daryl had ever made.

“Sorry I never kept that promise, I won’t make any excuses for it.” Rick apologized, retrieving his hand from the crookedness of the nose, remembering them talking about meeting again as his vacation was running to an end. He knew he would have, if he’d remembered it, he’d have come again sooner, asked his parents to go back there and camp once more.

“Ye’re here ain’t ye? Ain’t no break ‘n that.” And Rick felt stupid anyway, the sincerity in that voice that held no blame whatsoever, letting him off the hook. He must have had a dumbstruck look on his face again when Daryl snorted at him.

“We’s kids man, don’ sweat ‘t.” He continued, clearing his throat to brush it over.

“So’s, ye wanna beer ‘r somethin’?” Daryl nodded toward the cabin, inclining for them to head up the worn path in the grass and Rick felt a short laugh slip with Daryl’s request to not dwell on it seeping in, yeah, he could do that.

“Yeah.” As if nothing had changed aside from one less broken nose, no years had passed at all, he felt at comfort with Daryl’s presence just like they’d done when they had been kids, joining his pace while they headed to the cabin. They were older yeah, hopefully wiser too and not naïve little children but as they walked he could trace that pull that kept them close, how they gravitated toward one another without exactly bumping too close, the kind of ease it brought to be within that sphere again, that was exactly how he remembered it.

* * *

“I dreamt about this place you know, even though I couldn’t make out if it was from a memory of something my head just made up..” Rick started three sips down on his beer. They had settled onto the steps of the porch in lack of any outdoor furniture. Daryl had shrugged and said he had no visitors to use them anyway, so why did he need any? And yeah, he had a point in that.

“Said ye had a bad fever ‘fter goin’ back?” Daryl confirmed at one of his quick mentions, or thoughts, now that Rick remembered more and what his mom had once talked about, he had come down real bad after they’d left the campsite.

“Yeah, they even put me in the hospital to keep it in check.” The entire week had been a mess, being young at that yeah, now with all the facts he guessed he could make out why his memories had played hide and seek with him.

“Didn’ forget completely tho’, had some too ye kno’, dreams, although I’s livin’ere so’s mainly ‘bout ye, rememberin’ got me through t’worst ‘f it, like ye always said I could.” Daryl continued, looking like he was replaying his own version of the dream or at least, his memory of Rick replaying in his mind.

“I said that didn’t I?” Rick playfully nudged his knee against Daryl’s.

“Mhm, that ye didn’ need anythin’ else than one look ‘n m’eyes t’kno’ I’s somethin’ he couldn’ destroy.” He wasn’t prepared for the complete sentence he’d once said with all of the honesty of his childish youth bleeding out like spilled innocence, felt the embarrassed blush spreading and heating cheek. That Daryl remembered it son clearly, making Rick remember it too when he said it and he could probably take one look and still say the same, even if that was in the past there was just something that made Rick able to tell. 

“They’s as real as this place?” Daryl continued, perhaps he’d gotten a smidge of the embarrassment for remembering the exact words himself and moving the conversation along, if he did he was underestimating his social smoothness as the apparent loner that he was, no visitors and whatnot.

“Too real, like I’d never forgotten about it all, or like we were kids just yesterday. And you know.. you were in it too, in a way.” Rick replied, caught the shift in the corner of his eyes as Daryl found something to the right of them that caught his interest, thoughtfully sipping on his beer.

“You were blonde then though, I remember.” Rick glanced over when Daryl huffed at that comment, swallowing a chuckle that halfway made it out and popped his knee right back into Rick’s, more in payback than teasing though.

“’n ye had a buzz cut, looks better with ‘em curls coverin’ that shape ‘f yers.” He retaliated and okay, Rick had seen plenty of pictures before he started keeping a proper length, there were multitudes of them at his parent’s house and he really did look horrible as a kid, it wasn’t even a joke.

“Don’t remind me, it’s bad enough I have to see a 30x40 portrait of that hanging in the family collection at my parent’s dinner hall every time I go there. Yes, my mother framed one..” Rick sighed, rubbing a hand over his face to try and wipe the pain of this picture away from his existance while Daryl couldn’t swallow that chuckle once it came around again and purely laughed at Rick’s expense.

“Gotta see that man.” He started, swept along in the current before he cleared his throat.

“Ye should send me a copy.” Was added, almost as if he thought he’d overstepped when Rick had been about to go all long with it, tease him first and say no way, and then agreeing that it would be possible to arrange sometime. But he hadn’t gotten that far and then Rick recalled the friendship issue of their youth, perhaps nothing had really changed since then or it was just that the idea of that kind of invitation was too estranged even now. He leaned forward slightly, tilting his head to catch Daryl’s eyes.

“Or I could show it to you sometime, I’d love to have you visit, get to know this older you now that we met again.” Rick suggested, saw the hesitation that churned in Daryl’s eyes at the words. Rick thought they were still the same, even after all the years and the limited time they’d spent together in their childhood, this warmth soothing around them and the comfort with it, it wasn’t supposed to cause that look in his eyes. He carefully placed his hand at the back of Daryl’s neck to reassure him, let his thumb gently stroke at the skin.

“Don’t look at me like I don’t mean it.” He said, hadn’t realized how pleading he sounded until he heard himself say it, like he needed Daryl to believe him and perhaps a part of Rick, now as he was basking in their close fitted warmth, although hidden for the world to see back then, started to understand that he needed this long lost part of his life to stay.

“Every time I woke up from my dream, I was always as warm as much as I felt something missing, I missed you even though I didn’t remember, missed how we could talk about anything or nothing at all depending on what we wanted to do that day and with the little time I’ve spent with you now, it’s like nothing changed. You’re important to me.” And holy fuck didn’t that sound corny but it didn’t make it any less true, he was just at ease with Daryl around, like the air traveled to his lungs easier, they just worked well together like this.

“Rick I ain’t’..” Daryl started and Rick felt a crack striking through him, even if he knew he needed it himself, he couldn’t say that Daryl did and he didn’t like the taste in his mouth when that thought popped through his skull, dry and horribly tangy. No matter how familiar they felt sitting together like they were kids again, they weren’t kids, they were adults. He was probably the only one who felt like they weren’t much different from back then and he’d just made Daryl awkward with his honesty. Rick had just started pulling his hand back from the neck when it was stopped, Daryl placing his own as a weight to keep it in place, pinning his palm against the warmth of his skin.

“Shit don’ think that.” He said if Rick had said what the thought straight out. Daryl would pay one day for making his chest almost combust in tension, Rick would make sure of that.

“What ye said ‘fore, wouldn’ be true ‘f ye hadn’ said those things when we’s young, I’d prolly be gone already, ‘s all ye.”Maybe Rick would consider forgiving him, he could reduce it to a minor payback, put itching powder in his shower cream or something, petty stuff, well as long as he was allowed to visit that was. But he had the feeling he would be, the way Daryl had replied to something he hadn’t voiced, the way he was talking now, it felt how it should feel.

“I called ‘im ye kno’, ‘fter one time too many times ‘f hearin’ yer interferin’ voice ‘n m’head, we talked like we should’ve done sooner, as soon as he got out from t’stint he packed m’shit ‘n took me with.” Daryl spoke softly and Rick knew who he was referring to, their beers sat discarded and neglected now, condensing on the glass and Rick knew he was gone inside their sphere again, felt enveloped in his dream, enjoyed the sound of Daryl’s voice when it was like this and that he could finally listen to it when he spoke, warm and fond, sure of his words, didn’t have to think them through.

“He stopped usin’ after that call, ye didn’ only get me through, ye got our shitheads aside t’ come clean, we’s always honest with each other but we didn’ speak ‘f shit. He could be dead now ‘f not fer that, but he’s not, met a woman, ‘er name’s Carol ‘n they got themselves a girl, Sophia, they don’ live too far away, I mainly visit ‘em tho’. Maybe we might have gotten there by ourselves, I dunno, but I want t’give ye some ‘f the credit fer givin’ us a chance t’feel what a family ‘s like.” Daryl paused and Rick mused the thought that Daryl was considering that he’d been rambling, really, Rick could listen to him all evening should the man want to talk himself to sleep, he couldn’t ever call it rambling so Rick let himself tilt his torso, sitting shoulder to shoulder to let him know he was still listening, watching, giving Daryl his entire devotion.

“Was gonna say, I ain’t good ‘t this shit, ‘n supposedly ‘f there’s anyone I shouldn’t doubt, it’s ye, trusted ye before didn’ I? Kno’ I still do, guess I’m a bit rusty, but I’m tryin’ not t’let _me_ get ‘n the way alright? I don’ want ‘t to, not with ye.” Daryl spoke, turning his head and meeting Rick’s eyes as he did so, he was suppressing a part of himself that was so well defined through years, if even he willing it to be irrelevant as far as Rick came, he felt his chest stir when saw that in the other man, squeeze, warm, stir and spreading little tiny tumbles of something through his system.

“’cus fuck. No matter how crazy, ye’re too, important.” Daryl continued and Rick spread his fingers over the skin before he turned his hand palm up without thinking, their fingers snaking together, freezing the moment he realized how intimate the simple gesture was, he didn’t seem to be the only one either.

Then he watched how Daryl’s pupils shaded in intensity, like yearning hunger when he recognized the act for what it was, the moment Rick did too without shying away from it like he’d been burned, Rick swallowed when the slow shift moved in front of him and felt the melt when Daryl’s lips met his, crooking his neck to fit them together and how they remained to satiate that hunger, weighing _important_ like they were an even scale, he felt his own moving to kiss the man back and how the world resumed around them as he did, the Georgia summer heat from a scorching sun roaming a cloudless sky that had been forgotten, now spread its warmth over them again, the breeze that had gone silent sung once more through foliage and grass. It wasn’t exactly like a growl, but something traveled from Daryl’s throat, like he needed more and Rick knew he should probably be having some thoughts against it all, but there was none, only the spike of pleasure surging through his spine when Daryl knocked one of their beer bottles as he swung a leg over Rick’s to climb into his lap and it landed on the ground with a clink, their hands still connected while Rick felt the man’s other fingers cup the side of his jaw, guiding his head up while they kept kissing like idiots next to the sound of beer spilling out in the grass just below them. But it was perfect, he’d never thought this, of all things, when he pondered over his dreams, never thought of this when he happened upon this place and found it to be real, never thought of this when he remembered how they had met, he’d never thought of this when he had spoken Daryl’s name like someone he’d longed for, because now, when he could hear his own voice in his head as he’d said it, how his fingers had felt against the skin when he had, knew know that _this_ , was just as real.

“Remember when you chased my brother away that one time he followed me?” Rick absently added into their pause of catching some air after breathing through the nose didn’t suffice as a suitable tactic. He heard Daryl grunt in complaint, knew he was asking Rick what his fucking point was as the man probably didn’t want to remember his younger brother of all people.

“You had the same look back then, or the intensity at least, difference would be killed to eaten I guess.” Rick chuckled, nuzzling his nose against scruffy stubble at the jaw before he was nudged off to be kissed again, it was roughly this time, compared to the soft and exploring previous ones, at best they had been hungry yet still tender and caring.

“He had ‘t comin’ now can we not talk ‘bout yer brother right now?” Rick wanted to laugh at that, but he contained it, he didn’t have any arguments against that suggestion after all, and he pulled Daryl in to confirm their decision, no talking more business. It had been amusing though, Jeffrey had snuck after him one time and at his unfortunate timing, similar to the sad fate of his handkerchief, Daryl had been showing Rick a set of tracks, hunting for a rabbit and as they’d closed in upon it enough to catch a glimpse, ready for the kill, Jeffrey had popped out and scared Daryl’s dinner away. The rest, well, Jeffrey had probably never pinned his legs faster than he had that day.

Daryl had sunken into Rick after he seemed to be satisfied with the tender kissing and light touching, reddened and swollen lips, a pleasant sigh escaping him while being tucked close, still in his lap on a shitty porch stair but at least the beer had stopped spilling out, still Rick had a dumb wide smile on his face while he squeezed his fingers around Daryl’s, breathed deeply right next to his bent neck, catching his earthy scent.

“So.. this means you’re coming to visit right?” He asked, grin widening at the grumble that left Daryl.

“Ain’t with that attitude ‘f yers, gonna drive me up t’walls.” He replied and Rick dared sliding his hand underneath his shirt, finding pure skin instead of innocent and clothed groping while making out, it sent small electrifying desires through his pads and into the part of him that had less brain activity and more urge, this naked touch of skin and the hitched breath that escaped Daryl, rich with reaction but lacking rejection.

“Mhm, may take you up driving you up the walls.” He teased with a heated tone, the thought was.. fuck.. arousing, yet the touch of his fingers on the naked skin remained soft, feeling, enjoying the how it seemed to exhale the essence of that contentment his dreams had always had throughout his body. His dream of this place merging with reality as they sat together, the warmth of their joined presence, how they could feel together as two people aligned, balancing perfectly together in their scale, with the nature around, how the dream was still there around him even though he can see himself and his dearest companion clearly when he couldn’t in that sleeping world, but especially because there, at the edge of the grass connecting to the sand, sits the boots he never bothered to put back on when Daryl offered him a beer.

“Asshole.” Daryl muttered the warm words closely to his ear. Well, Rick wasn’t going to deny that, he was also quite sure Daryl liked it.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler= Rick did get a new coffee brewer.


End file.
